


Rude Awakenings

by evieplease



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Implied threesome M/F/M, Morning After, Multi, implied bisexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9849299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieplease/pseuds/evieplease
Summary: OFC wakes up in a Hotel Room with unexpected guest(s)





	

I slowly surface, waking a little at a time. First, becoming aware that I was in a warm bed, snuggled back into a warm body. There was a bit of morning light seeping through my eyelids, not too bright. Then there was a warm hand, stroking from my (naked) hip, down the outside of my thigh, and back again. Over and over, hypnotically.

“Mmmm…” I murmured, not opening my eyes yet, allowing my hips to lean into the pressure of that warm hand. Then a tongue ran its warm, wet way up my neck to my ear, and back to my collarbone, planting a warm open-mouthed kiss there. I felt the light scratch of morning beard stubble scoring my shoulder.

Wait…beard stubble?? My eyes flew open and I turned my head fast, meeting a pair of startled blue-green eyes. Blue-green, not the warm brown that I was expecting. The eyes were set in a face of angles and planes and lines, pale, lightly freckled skin, toped by a mass of tousled red-gold curls, and underscored by a red-smoke of morning stubble. I felt my eyes widen, and my breath cease to move in my chest.

”Good morning, darling. Sleep well?” came a husky morning voice of silk and a sleepy smile.

I wrenched myself upward with a gasp, clutching the bed sheet to my naked breasts.

“What?! Who?! Where?!” as my eyes frantically swept over my surroundings. Great. Way to be coherent. And original. Ok. It’s obviously a fairly posh hotel suite, kingsized bed, rumpled bedding, clothing discarded and strewn over the floor. Rather a lot of clothing strewn over the floor. Several dirty and partially finished champagne flutes and an empty brut lying on its side. Oh good. Crap.

“Bit of a surprise this morning then, darling?” Inquired the voice from beside me, amusement coloring the tone.

I tore my eyes from the shambles of the room, whipped my head around and stared at him a moment before forcing myself to accept the reality of his presence.  
The reality of HIM. I pulled my knees up, covering my face with shaking hands. 

“Fucking fuck! Oh, fucking hell, what did I do?!” I moaned, twisting and peeking at him again.

“Tom Hiddleston? Tom Fucking Hiddleston?? Fucking Tom Hiddleston???” I groaned. I saw the amusement slowly drain out of his face and his mouth settle into a grim line.

“You’re being really rather rude, darling.” His eyes were - hurt?

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” He sounded a bit offended.

I snatched my hands away from my face. “I beg your pardon - um, Tom? I just… need a moment to process, um, this…”

I stared at him blankly as last nights memories came crashing back to me; getting ready for the Gala. The argument. What had it been about? Come back to that later. Stupidly wrenching my ring off and slamming it onto the counter. Storming out into the dark, storming away from the argument and making my way several blocks away to the pub on righteously clicking heels. Marching up to the bar and ordering a shot of tequila. “And keep them coming!” 

Three or four shots in, noticing the live music and beginning to sway and move my hips to the beat. Feeling someone grab my hand and pull me onto the dance floor, following a long, lean body on long, lean legs. moving behind me and seizing my hips as I undulated to the music, my eyes closed and my mind blank, head falling back onto a firm chest. Dancing and drinking. Finding myself dancing again, sandwiched between two hard masculine bodies…

I heard a door open, and a deep voice intone “Good morning, you two.”

Snapping back into the present, I wrenched out of memory and toward the new voice, and saw a naked...

“…Cumberbatch.” I breathed, He stood, leaning against the doorframe of the bath, looking at me. At us. My eyes travelled from his naked feet, up his long, muscled legs, snagging on the nest of curls surrounding quite a nice detumesced cock, up a dark happy trail, noting the lovely cut of his hips and torso, upward over his chest and neck, skimming his lush lips with that charming cupid’s bow, to light ice blue eyes and dark curls over all.

I looked from his enquiring gaze as he sauntered over to the side of the bed, bent over and kissed Tom.

“Morning, loves.” he says deeply. “Problem?” He flicked his glance over me.

“Oh gods,” I groan, holding my head and clutching my hair. “I am in soooo much trouble! What am I going to tell my wife??”

“Wife?!” chorus two startled masculine voices.


End file.
